Renegade Valkyrie: An angel of death with heart… #free

When an angel of death breaks her Valkyrie oath, she’ll face Valhalla’s brutal wrath.

Soleil isn’t one to follow the rules. Still in mourning for her fiancé’s death, she defies an assassination order from Valhalla itself to keep a friend alive. Now the Valkyrie’s entire species plans to make her pay…

On the run from her own kind, Soleil’s problems double when a powerful witch targets the angel of death on a quest for revenge. Desperate to keep her best friend Titan safe, she considers abandoning the one she cares about most. If only she wasn’t starting to fall deeply in love…

Facing retribution from all sides, Soleil must endure an impossible supernatural battle or die trying…

Renegade Valkyrie is the first book in the gripping Valhalla’s Curse series of urban fantasy novels. If you like sweet paranormal romance, plucky heroines, and underworld fantasies, then you’ll love USA Today Bestselling Author Stacy Claflin’s spell-binding novel.

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Excerpt

The beat of the music runs through me as I dance among the throng of other bodies. Bright colorful lights move all around in tune with the song.

I close my eyes and really throw myself into it, bumping into others. They don’t care, and I don’t care. We’re all here to have a good time. And many of us are here for another reason—to forget something. Or many somethings.

In my case? Many, many somethings.

Forgetting is my favorite thing about dancing the night away every single evening.

The music stops for a moment as the current song ends. When a slower, more romantic song begins, I open my eyes and realize how dry my mouth is.

I weave my way through the dancing bodies then finally reach the bar.

“Your usual?” The bartender flips his long black bangs from one side to the other.

“You know it.” I sit on a stool and catch my breath.

“Comin’ right up, Soleil.” His wide smile reveals his gold tooth, then he turns around and works on the drink.

Someone sits at the stool next to me, bumping me.

I ignore him.

He doesn’t ignore me. “Hey there. Did you just fall from Heaven?”

“That’s original.”

The guy shifts his weight and runs his hand over his sleeked-back, light brown hair. “Can’t help it. It’s hard to think straight around such beauty.”

I hold back a sigh, bored. Obviously another line, but he has no idea how on the mark he is with that one. My beauty is designed to draw people to me. I could kill him right this very second and nobody would even notice.

At least not until someone has to move the body.

The bartender slides my drink over. “Add this to your tab, Sols?”

I really should learn his name. “Thanks.”

“Tab?” Sleeked-hair raises an eyebrow. “You come here often?”

“Yep.” I sip the rainbow-colored drink, missing the ones made by my friend, the former troll king. He makes them with unicorn horn flakes—an ingredient woefully unavailable in a purely human establishment.

It makes me wish I could head back home, but if I dwell on that, I’m not doing my job, which for the moment is to forget about all my problems.

As I set my empty glass down, I realize the guy next me is rambling on about something. He’s about as interesting as a thumbtack.

I shove my empty glass toward the bartender and slide off my stool.

“Going to dance?” He looks hopeful, like a puppy. Probably some college kid. They always seem to walk around with that look in their eyes like the world is a big place full of wonders.

It’s none of that—it’s small and soul-crushing.

I shake my head. “Going to the ladies’ room.”

He follows me, yammering something about the song.

I ignore him. Or try to, anyway. Not that it does much good. He’s really latched onto me. With any luck, he’ll lose interest while I’m in the bathroom. If not, things could get ugly.

And I don’t want that to happen.

I open the door marked WOMEN and turn to him. “This is where we part.”

He stands taller. “I can go in with you. I’m feeling like a woman right about now.”

Creeper.

I narrow my eyes. “Have some respect.”

“Oh, I do. Believe me.”

“Seriously.” I glower at him, holding back my annoyance which could easily turn to anger. He doesn’t want to see that. It could be the last thing he sees, and I’d prefer to let the weasel live.

He grins. “Oh, I am. Serious as a heart attack.”

The dude is about to get a warning, and hopefully he’ll take it.

They usually do.

I try logic one more time. “Just wait out here.”

“This is the twenty-first century. I can go in there.” He nods toward the women’s bathroom.

“That rule is meant for people who actually—”

“Shut up.” He grabs my shoulders and presses his chapped lips on my mouth.

That’s it. Nice Soleil is taking a backseat.

I shove him back. He flies into the wall with an impressive crash. At least he doesn’t crack the surface like the last guy did.

He doesn’t respond at first, but then looks around. His eyes gloss over.

“I said to wait out here.” Without waiting for a response, I rush into the bathroom. My ears ring from the sudden quiet. Not that it’s truly silent—the music is only muffled.

Three girls in too-short skirts pass me, giggling to each other. Maybe they’ll be more interested in Sleeked-hair out there.

That’d be a lot better than me showing him what I’m really made of. He doesn’t want to see that, and I don’t want to do that. I’d rather pretend I’m just human. Unfortunately, that pretense only ever lasts a short while. Doesn’t matter how hard I try.

I go to the mirror and pretend to fix my hair, but who am I kidding? It’s perfect, as always. It falls over my shoulders, looking like I spent hours on it. Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to actually have to fight with it.

A blonde comes out of her stall. “Love your hair color. Where’d you go to get it? I’m always trying new shades of blonde.”

“It’s natural.”

Her mouth drops open. “For real?”

I nod, then pull out some lip gloss. “For real.”

“You are so lucky. I’d kill for that color.”

“Maybe that’s it.” I am a Valkyrie, after all. My entire purpose is to take lives. I’m an angel of death sent from Valhalla.

“Huh?” She looks at me like I’ve sprouted a second head.

“Nothing. Thanks for the compliment.”

“Whatever.” She scurries from the bathroom.

I wash my hands as a group of five come in, laughing and gasping for air. They disperse into different stalls, then I make my way out, hoping Sleek-hair found someone else to bother.

Nope. He’s leaning against the wall, and he flashes me a self-satisfied grin as soon as we make eye contact.

“Not put off too easily, are you, soldier?”

He pushes himself away from the wall. “Soldier, huh? I like that.”

Great. “I have to meet my friend. See you around.”

“I can go with you. Is she as pretty as you?”

“No, he’s nowhere near as pretty as me. He’s super hot, though. Are you into that?”

He scowls. “No. Do I look like I am?”

I glance back to the ladies’ room. “You did say you identify—”

“You’re way more trouble than you’re worth.” He storms off. Finally.

I wait a moment, taking in his absence before heading back to the dance floor and looking for Titan. Last I saw my friend, he was headed upstairs with a redhead to the lounge. Girls love him. I wasn’t kidding about him being super hot.

If I were in a different place in life, I’d definitely be interested in more than a platonic roommate relationship. But that’s all it is, and it works for us. Besides, I know better than to get involved with a mesmer. They’re part of the trickster species.

A song from the eighties with a great beat blares over the speakers. Now that had been a good decade. And that week with Prince…

I shake my head to clear the memory.

Time to stay in the present. I throw myself onto the dance floor and give everything to the song, trying to forget that everyone I danced with to this back in the day is now in their fifties, or dead.

So goes the life of an immortal. Most everyone else grows older and dies. That’s one reason I like my new best friend. Titan may be a trickster, but he isn’t getting any older. Everyone else around us will eventually settle down and have families. Then when their kids are old enough to come dance here, Titan and I will be here to teach them some new moves.

A soft but firm hand rests on my bare shoulder.

I turn and find a beautiful woman in a flowing, floor-length black dress. Her brunette tresses reach her elbows, and her blazing brown eyes lock with mine. Seems like she wants something.

“Want to dance?” I ask.

Her gorgeous face contorts to a scowl, and she’s still stunning. “I’m not here to dance, Soleil.”

I stop dancing, and concern pricks me as I study her. She knows my name. She’s unusually alluring. Magic emanates from her—so strong it sends a shiver down my spine.

She’s a witch. And based on her glare, not a friendly one.

“What do you want?”

“You killed my sister. I want your blood.”

“What, like a drop for a spell?”

Her nostrils flare and her full, perfect lips thin as her mouth forms a straight line. “I’m here to kill you.”

“Why not take me by surprise?”

She steps closer. “Because I want you to know why you’re dying.”

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